


Mirror

by kangeiko



Series: More Joy Day 2019 [3]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-11-06 02:15:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17930894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: And the day had started out so well.





	Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> For petra, as part of More Joy Day's fic offer.

And the day had started out so well. “ _Must_  we?”  
  
“Leo…”  
  
“I’m just saying, we could probably scrounge up another India expert if we tried  _really_  hard. I hear Britain’s full of them. Or, you know,  _India._ ”  
  
“ _Leo._ ”  
  
Leo waved a hand. “You know, you only do this because you’re not the one who has to deal with him.”  
  
There was a lengthy pause. Jed peered at him over his glasses. “I’m fairly sure that I am.”  
  
Which was completely besides the point. “No, you deal with him on the diplomacy, and the, you know, the  _thing_ ,” he waved a hand, “and meanwhile I’m fetching and carrying for Lord Whatsit.” He rearranged his papers and stood, wondered if he could get Margaret to corral Marbury instead.  
  
“You’re not fe-” Jed started, still peering up at him quizzically, his brow furrowed.  
  
At the same time, Leo finally burst out, “he’s just so -” and then stopped, mortified at how loud it had come out. He’d meant to complain a little - maybe nudge Jed into picking someone else,  _anyone_  else - and instead… well. It was late, and the last few days had worn them all down.   
  
Jed stared at him for another long moment and then took his glasses off, folding them beside him on the desk. “OK. That’s… I wasn’t really expecting... “ He trailed off, confusion on his face. He’d only been half-paying attention, sorting through the briefing notes for the next meeting in the five minutes of free time that Leo had decided to barge in on.   
  
He was paying attention now, wasn’t he? His entire focus was on Leo. And he… He looked  _tired_ , Leo thought suddenly, and was abruptly sorry he’d even said anything. “I - no, never mind, it was just a - you’re right, I can absolutely put up with him for a few hours.”   
  
“Leo,” Jed asked, very quietly, “what’s this about?”  
  
_Nothing,_  sat on the tip of Leo’s tongue, waiting to spill out the moment he opened his mouth.  _Nothing, he’s fine, he’s charming and roguish and -_  
  
The thing was, Leo knew exactly how charming and amusing Lord John Marbury could be. Especially after he’d had a drink - or two drinks - or half a decanter of brandy. Wasn’t that where his charm lay? The dissipation in those aristocratic good looks, the slow droop of the half-lidded eyes, the curving smile - oh yes, he knew how charming a drink made Marbury.  
  
(He knew how charming a drink made  _him_.)  
  
Leo had started drinking before he got married, and he got married before he became an alcoholic. He knew exactly how charming he could be on a glass of wine, and how much more charming after a bottle. He had wined and dined his wife, and his colleagues, and his competitors, and then politician after politician, as if his whole life had been one big inebriated seduction.  
  
_He’s such a character!_  The Dutch ambassador had said when they had been introduced, eyes wide crinkling with mirth, and she’d let Marbury kiss her hand and lead her to the dancefloor.  
  
_You’re a character, Leo,_  the Russian ambassador said, the second time they had met. He’d been Labor secretary at the time and she’d been new in post and still learning the ropes. New to the US, of course, not to diplomatic service; the Russians didn’t send amateurs.  _How charming you are._  
  
There are people out there, Leo knew, who had only ever met him the once, or had only ever known him Before. Before Sierra-Tucson, before he dried out,  _before_. He wonders sometimes many of them still think,  _oh, that Leo McGarry. He’s such a character!_  
  
He’d never said to Jed why he disliked Marbury so much. What could he say that someone like Jed would understand? There was no common ground for them on this.  
  
At the end of the day, there was a special kind of loathing a man reserved for the worst version of themselves, for the image that embodied everything they hated and found repugnant and weak. For the charming smile and the cigarette held loosely in one hand and the stench of whiskey on the breath. For the sharp mind dulled just a fraction, for the judgement impaired just a smidge, and for -  
  
_Oh, you are so tediously uptight,_  Marbury had said the last time he’d visited Leo’s office - uninvited - a hand curled around a tumbler of brandy.  _Why on earth did you ever give up drinking if you knew it would turn you into someone like this?_  
  
Marbury’s fingers had been fever-hot where they’d pressed against Leo’s wrist for one bare moment.  _You really should learn to live a little, Leo._    
  
“Nothing,” he finally said, and made himself meet Jed’s eyes. “I’ll call him.”

*

fin


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